


Drift Away

by Rymdunge



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Stan Pines-centric, Teen Stans, but like the subdued kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rymdunge/pseuds/Rymdunge
Summary: Ford gets to go to his dream collage. Stan tries to figure out what to do with himself.
Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Comments: 22
Kudos: 106





	Drift Away

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little piece of sad I've been working on in between chapters of _[Looking for Polaris](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18551854/chapters/43972555)_.
> 
> One guess was to what recent(ish) cartoon show event inspired this...!

Stan swallowed the dread swirling inside him and laughed with confidence he didn’t really feel. “Joke's on them if they think you wanna go to some stuffy college on the other side of the country. Once we get the Stan O' War complete, it's gonna be beaches, babes, and international treasure hunting for us.”

“Look, Stan, I can't pass up a chance like this. This school has cutting edge programs and multi-dimensional paradigm theory.”

“Beep boop. I am a nerd robot. That's you. That's what you sound like.”

Ford laughed slightly. “Ah, well, if the college board isn't impressed with my experiment tomorrow, then okay, I'll do the treasure-hunting thing.”

“And if they are?”

“Well then, I guess you better come visit me on the other side of the country.” Ford punched his shoulder and Stan smiled automatically. 

It wasn’t until he was watching Ford walk up the beach that the words finally sunk in. He pushed back with his legs and swung back and forth a couple of times. ‘If they weren’t impressed’, huh. Like there was any chance of that. Ford was the smartest kid in the country, probably.

He jumped off the swing as it reached its highest point and landed in the damp sand with a thud. Looking back, he was surprised at how short a distance he’d leapt. Maybe he was out of practise, or maybe it just had seemed further when he was tiny.

His stomach growled and that was as good an excuse as any to head to the corner store for a snack instead of going straight home. There was only a couple of crumpled one dollar bills in his pocket. More than enough for a bag of Toffee Peanuts, but not much else.

How much gas would it take to get across the country?

The cashier gave him a not so sneaky glare as he entered the store. Stan almost shoplifted just ‘cause of that. Teach her to judge a book by the cover. But he didn’t have his jacket, and this store was placed right between school and home. He didn’t wanna get banned from the easiest place to pick up comics and snacks.

He paid for the candy and stepped out of the fluorescent light of the store. No way he could head home yet. If anything, he felt more restless now than just after Ford had left – headed home. So he turned to walk in the other direction, tearing the bag open and shoving a fistful of nuts in his mouth.

When he made it to school he slowed down to glare at the sad brick building. He thought about going inside, maybe break into the teacher's lounge and mess with the coffee machine.

A salty wind hit his back and all of a sudden, he just wanted to lay down in the sand until the angry burn in his throat stopped. He wasn’t really in the mood to play pranks anyway.

He went back to the beach and laid down in the sand, where he had a view of the Stan O’ War, looking like a hole cut out of the sea and sky. There he stayed until the back of his shirt was soaked through and he was all out of Toffee Peanuts. Then he finally felt ready to go home. Hopefully everyone would be asleep by now.

The next day passed in a fog. Ford left for the science fair around noon. Technically, Stan was required to attend too, but c’mon, nobody expected him to. Instead, he spent the day in front of the TV, trying to lose himself in boring daytime shows.

Evening came and the daytime shows turned into some old movie. Stan tried to concentrate on the plot, but all he could think about is when the science fair was going to end and how long it would take for Ford to get back. He kept twisting around to look at the clock in the kitchen. Sometimes the minute hand hadn’t even moved since the last time he checked.

Then he heard the door downstairs and somebody hurrying up into the apartment. For a second he felt panicked. What was he supposed to say if things had gone well? What was he supposed to say if things had gone badly?

Ford entered and before Stan could ask, he said, “They loved it! They said it was the most impressive thing they had seen during this year’s tour!”

Stan took a slight breath before managing a smile. “Of course they loved it!” He stood up and rounded the sofa. You’re the smartest kid in the country!”

Ford flushed with pride and waved Stan’s flattery away. “I don’t know about that. But they said that I should expect to hear from them again before too long.” He faltered for a second, like he only now remembered what his good news meant for Stan. “Stanley-”

Stan slapped him across the back before he could finish. “That’s my nerdy brother! Those West Coast dorks aren’t gonna know what’s hit ‘em.”

Ford coughed and laughed awkwardly. “Stanley, _if_ I get in in the first place, I’m just going to be on par with everyone else. In fact, I might even end up in the lower half in terms of intelligence. West Coast tech is one of the most prestigious schools in the country, after all.”

Stan felt a stab of irritation in his chest. Couldn’t they just stop with this whole ‘don’t know about that’ and ‘if I get in’ song and dance? They both knew things were already set in stone. If Ford thought he was sparing Stan’s feelings, he really _was_ the world’s dumbest genius.

And of course the letter came and the whole summer was spent getting everything in order for Ford’s big move. It was a lot of work pretending he was fine and avoiding conversations that weren’t gonna do anyone any good. Towards the end, he almost wished Ford would just leave already and put him out of his misery.

And still, when the day came, it was too soon.

Stan felt like his jaw was going to fall off from grinning all day. He smiled while helping Ford pack his stuff and move it out to the Stanleymobile. He laughed as their mom got all weepy and hugged both of them, going on about how they were all grown up all of a sudden – her little boys turned men.

The drive to the interstate bus stop felt like forever. Stan wanted to talk, but he couldn’t come up with anything to say. Maybe Ford felt the same, or maybe his brain was already hundreds of miles away.

Once they’d gotten Ford’s bags out of the car and put the bigger one in the bus’ luggage compartment, they stopped, face to face but not making eye contact.

Stan gathered all his strength to be able to look up from his sneakers. “Well, bye.”

“Hey, see you soon, Knucklehead.” Ford raised his hand.

A little part of Stan kinda wanted to leave him hanging – shove his hands in his pockets and turn away with a ‘yeah, we’ll see’. This was all so easy for Ford, wasn’t it? But then his eyes caught on his twin’s face. His smile had the slightest wobble to it, and his eyes were shiny.

Stan slapped his palm against Ford’s, firmly, so that the sting would linger for a while. “Not if I see you first.”

The bus vanished down the street. Stan wrestled the instinct to run after it like a dog. Instead he went back to the car and drove. After a few rounds around the town, he finally felt ready to go back home.

—

The alarm bleared at him. Stan pushed his face into the pillow and reached out to hit the snooze button. He fumbled around, nearly knocking the lamp off the bedside table before he remembered that the alarm clock was on the desk, to force him to actually get out of bed to turn it off.

He sighed a full breath and wondered if he might be able to fall back asleep despite the noise. But being able to get out of the house before his parents woke up was too tempting. He didn’t need his Pa to look at him like he was lazy, even though he’d not quit or even pulled a sickie for two months.

He rolled out of bed, turned the alarm off and sat back down on his bed. Dust fluttered in the light from the window. Somehow, his and Ford’s room managed to look more empty and cluttered at the same time, with most of Ford’s stuff with him at college or stuffed away in the closet, while Stan’s stuff had migrated all over the room.

He picked up a shirt from the floor and sniffed it – not that it mattered what he smelt like leaving the house. The stink of saltwater and seaweed was going to cover everything up pretty well.

The house was dark and quiet, but Ma was gonna be up before long to put the coffee on. Without realizing it, Stan had started avoiding his mom as well as his dad. He couldn’t stand the way she smiled at him and constantly told him how proud she way of him. _Proud_ of him, for being able to hold down a braindead, minimum wage job. All it did was make him feel like even more of a failure.

Stan fixed himself a sloppy, mustard drenged sandwich and gobbled it down over the sink, so he wouldn’t have to bother with cleaning up. He wiped his face and let out a big yawn.

Afterwards, he had a piss and brushed his teeth, just to have an excuse to not get going just yet. But then he was out of things to do and went out to his car. He took his time getting down to the docks, driving slowly with the windows cranked down to let the warm autumn air in. Pretty soon it was going to be freezing in the mornings. He had no idea how he was going to be able to force himself out of bed then.

Jammerson’s Saltwater Taffy was a weather beaten little shack that looked ready to let the winds take it out to sea – good riddance too. Their taffy was horrible. Stan parked in one of the two spaces reserved for employees.

“Pines, you’re six minutes late.” Jammerson Junior stuck his head out the door the moment Stan stepped out of the car. In his own head, Stan never called him anything but Junior. It was a small thing, but it was undeniably hilarious to call a man thrice his age ‘Junior.’

“Yeah, my mom needed some help with, uh, the sink.” An obvious lie, but Junior wouldn’t have believed him if he’d had the best excuse in the world, even if it was the truth.

“Just get to work, and don’t think you’ll get out of making up those minutes at the end of the day.”

Stan turned his face away and mimed out an exaggerated imitation of Junior’s nagging. He got his cleaning gear out of the shed attached to the back of the building and got started at the front – cleaning the windows, scrubbing dirt and grime out of the wood and picking off the stray sea creature that had somehow crawled all the way around the building. He was finished in front just before opening, and Junior gave him a pointed glare as he turned the sign in the window.

The rest of his shift consisted mostly of scraping barnacles of the back of the building and tossing them into the water bellow. It was boring as a pile of dirt but at least no one was around to tell him he was doing it wrong.

At least he wasn’t sitting around at home waiting for Ford to call. They had talked a couple of times since Ford had left. Everything was apparently going great. The collage was everything Ford had ever dreamt it’d be and all his classmates were brilliant and yada yada yada. As tiring as it was listening to Ford going on about things Stan could never hope to understand, it was way worse when the conversation moved on to ask Stan how _he_ was doing. Like he was ever going to be able to say anything but ‘same old same old.’

Ford didn’t have the time to come home for Rosh Hashanah, and Ma had been sure to let him know how that upset her, although not as upset as she really was. Stan didn’t know what he felt about it.

The day went on and on, until it was time for lunch. Stan usually ate alone, so he wouldn’t have to deal with all the fishermen and assorted boardwalk workers glaring at him like he didn’t belong – like they were waiting for the day he’d rob the store or blow it up or whatever.

If Ford had been there, they could’ve shared a look and laughed about all the serious glares and tutting, and joke about supposed hard boiled working men gossiping like a bunch of old ladies.

But Ford wasn’t around. And talking out loud to himself would probably make his hilarious quips fall pretty flat.

He realized that he’d forgotten to pack a lunch and would have to buy some overpriced grub along the boardwalk. On one hand, he’d jump at any excuse to have a burger instead of a cold sandwich from home. But then again, he should be trying to save money, if he was ever gonna be able to move out or go see Ford.

He could’ve settled for something cheaper and smaller, or skipped lunch all together. But hunger won out in the end, as it always did with Stanley Pines. He picked up a burger meal from the diner near the toffee shop and moved to his usual lunch spot, sitting on the fence along the edge of the boardwalk where he could look at people walking past, or out towards the sea, if he felt like it. Today was more of a ‘stare blankly ahead’ kind of day.

“Hey, Shithead!”

Stan looked up to see Crampelter and his goons coming towards him. Seemed like no matter how much time passed, these knuckleheads were still the same kinda school yard bullies. It only got more pathetic the further they got from actually being in school.

“Listen, I gotta get back to work in a minute. So whatever it is, can you make it snappy?”

“I’ll admit, I’m actually kinda impressed.” Crampelter grinned, pausing like Stan was ever going to ask what about.

Stan picked up his drink and took a long, loud sip.

Crampelter deflated a little, before widening his smile again and taking a step towards Stan. “‘Cause you’re so dumb, I didn’t think you’d be able to do any job without the freak telling you how to do it.”

“Says the guy who has to rely on Daddy to hire him for a made up job when nobody else wants him.”

Crampelter had no poker face whatsoever. The mention of his dad and the cushy job in his hardware store wiped that smug look off his face, replacing it with red faced anger. He grabbed the front of Stan’s shirt, pulling him forward. “At least my dad gives a shit about me.”

Stan’s arms twitched with the desire to shut Crampelter up with his fists. But he wasn’t going to get into pointless fights anymore. He was going to be the bigger person – the adult.

“Oof!” Stan waved a hand in front of his face. “What the hell did you eat? It’s like a dumpster.” Okay, so maybe not completely the adult.

He was sure Crampelter was going to knock him in the nose for that, but then his face shifted to something almost thoughtful. He smiled smugly and next thing Stan knew, he was falling backwards over the railing.

He crashed into the water. Murky darkness wrapped around him and the sounds of the busy town were washed away by the murmur of waves. It was cold and the salt stung his eyes, but even so, he wasn’t that pissed about it. There was something peaceful about being under water.

His back hit seabed and knocked the breath out of him. Never mind, this sucked. Instinct kicked in and he pushed himself back to the surface. As he broke through he could hear laughter fading into the distance. Seemed like Stan wasn’t gonna get the chance to shoot some clever comeback.

He swam to shallow water and moved to the beach at the boardwalk

Junior looked like he was gonna blow a gasket when he spotted Stan. “What the hell did you do? You’re not gonna handle deliveries like that!”

Stan grabbed the front of his shirt to wring some of the water out. “It’s saltwater taffy, ain’t it? It’d just add to the flavor. And ‘sides, it’s plastic wrapped.”

“I’m not letting you ruin my lucrative deal with the souvenir shop.”

Stan would never get over that somebody had thought to open a souvenir shop in Glass Shard Beach of all places. The only tourists they ever got were people who’d gotten lost trying to find their way someplace else.

This toffee deal was only ‘lucrative’ in that candy sold better than shitty snowglobes.

“Just- Clean out the back storage today and _try_ to stay dry the _whole_ day tomorrow.” He said it like Stan’d done all this intentionally.

Stan fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Roger, Boss.”

—

“Hey, uh, I asked at work, and I think I might be able to get a couple of days off in November. Maybe I could come see you?”

“Yes! Yes, of course.” Ford sounded genuinely excited. “Just tell me when’s best for you, and I’ll set things up on my end.”

He’d thought the drive to the west coast was going to be boring, but he actually enjoyed every minute. Once he crossed out of Jersey it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It was just him, the Stanleymobile and the open road. He hadn’t had much time for driving for driving’s sake lately, and he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it.

He went through towns and cities, past farms and lakes and untamed wilderness. If he had had more time, he’d have stopped at every weird roadside attraction – the tackier the better. But he only had a couple of days to get to California, see Ford, and head back.

The joy wore off as he got closer to his destination, replaced with gnawing nervousness. As he stood outside the door of Ford’s flat, he almost wanted to leave. “It’s your brother,” he muttered to himself. “He won’t bite.”

He knocked on the door and waited. Time dragged, but eventually he heard a set of footsteps moving towards the door. Not Ford’s he realized, just before a short, geeky guy opened the door. He looked Stan up and down with a slight sneer before looking him in the face with a questioning expression.

“Uh, hey.” Stan almost waved, before realising how awkward that would look. So instead he shoved his hands deep inside his pockets. “I’m Stanley, Stanford’s brother. He told me this was his place.” He tried matching the geeky guy’s disinterested expression, and stop himself from looking down at the ridiculously shiny pair of shoes he was wearing.

“Yes, I guessed as much,” the guy said with a condescending smile. “Unless Stanford mastered human cloning and has neglected to mention it.”

“Do you actually wake up every day and decide to talk like _that?”_ Stan blurted. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to make fun of one of Ford’s new friends the first thing he did. But. c’mon, the guy wouldn’t be talking like that if he didn’t want the attention.

The guy smiled through his irritation and turned in towards the apartment. “Stanford! Your brother has arrived.”

There was a thud and a yelp, and then the sound of rushing footsteps – definitely Ford’s this time. Next second, Ford appeared at the other end of the short hallway. He was smiling ear to ear and Stan automatically matched his expression.

“There he is!” Stan exclaimed, slipping past the smug guy and immediately moving to catch Ford in a headlock. “Did you get shorter, or is it just all that knowledge weighing your head down?”

Ford laughed and struggled against his grip. “Let me go, you knucklehead.” He managed to slip his head free and straightened. “At least let me introduce you before you go making bad impressions.”

Stan was taken off guard by how that stung, even though it was obviously a joke.

“Stanley, this is my roommate Kyle. Kyle, this is Stanley.”

“Pleasure,” Kyle said dryly. He went past them into what Stan assumed was his and Ford’s dorm room.

Before the silence could get awkward, Stan spoke, “What’s there to eat? I’ve been driving for hours and I am _starving!”_

“I thought we might order in. How does pizza sound?”

Stan cringed before he could stop himself. “Uh, sure. That’d be- Sounds great.”

“What is it?” Of course Ford chose this moment to be perfectly perceptive.

Stan scratched the back of his head. “It’s just… I kinda sorta only brought enough money to get me here and back.” More like, he’d brought all the money he’d managed to save and was betting on luck that it’d be enough to get him home.

Ford sighed good naturedly. “Seriously? Nice to see some things have stayed the same.”

“C’mon, we both know nothing ever changes in Glass Shard Beach.” Stan grinned.

“Don’t worry about the pizza. It’ll be my treat, You’re my guest after all.” It was lucky Ford walked away just then. “I’ll go make the call. Same as usual?”

Stan swallowed quietly. “Beef and mushrooms.” He was a guest now. Just someone visiting in his brother’s life.

“Gotcha! I’ll just head out to the phone. Go sit down in our room.” With that he was out the door and Stan sighed with relief.

He rolled his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. It’d always helped him reset his body and mind. Then he went into the room Kyle had gone into. From just a glance, it was obvious which side of the room was Ford’s. The bed was covered in notes and there was a small pile of books and trinkets at the foot of the bed.

Stan smiled to himself. He was going to have to tease Ford about that once he got back.

He shoved some of the books on the floor so he could sit down and ended up face to face with Kyle, who was sitting on the other bed.

“So… Stanley.”

Stan gritted his teeth.

“What is it you do?”

“Uh… Cleaning up one of the stores down at the docks.”

“I see.” Kyle weaved his fingers together over his knee.

Stan looked out the window, but he couldn’t see anything but sky from this angle. He decided to speak before the silence got too awkward. “And you… uh, you do the same kinda science stuff as Ford?”

Kyle scoffed. “Yes, I do ‘do the same kind of science stuff’ as Stanford.” He smiled condescendingly. “Glad to hear you take such an active interest in your brother’s studies.”

Stan’s words got stuck in his throat. He knew what Kyle was hinting at, but he didn’t know how to counter it without him saying it outright. “I don’t need to understand it to care about it,” he said finally.

He met Kyle’s gaze and refused to look away.

Kyle tilted his head back slightly. “Don’t give me that shit,” he snapped.

“Excuse me?”

“I know your type. Braindead schoolyard bullies who get out into the real world and realize that bullying nerds into do their homework isn’t going to work anymore.”

“‘Bullying nerds?’ What the hell are-”

“Well, _you_ never needed to, of course. You had Stanford to make up for your deficiencies.”

“Did he tell you all that?”

“He didn’t need to.”

Stan couldn’t keep from laughing at the overly serious look on Kyle's face. “Okay, you’ve known my brother for, what, a couple of months? I’ve known him literally our whole lives. So maybe I’m the one with a slight edge when it comes to knowing what he thinks about stuff.”

Kyle glared back at him. For a scrawny, shiny shoe’d nerd, he didn’t back down easy. Stan’d give him that. “Just because you grew up in the same house as someone doesn’t mean you understand them.”

Who did this little twerp think he was?

“Personally, I never put much stock into the whole ‘special sibling bond’ thing. I have two sisters myself, and let me tell you, we are not close.”

“And who would pass up on the chance to be your buddy, right?” Stan leaned back against the wall.

Kyle looked infuriatingly smug. “My point exactly. Just because we happen to be siblings doesn’t mean we’ll get along. We’re just too different.” He crossed his arms. “I mean, you can’t actually think you and him would be friends if you didn’t happen to be brothers.” He said it with a laugh that took Stan almost to the edge of what he could put up with.

Another word out of this guy and he was going to do something real stupid.

Stan grabbed his jacket and marched out the apartment, making sure to slam the door as hard as he could. He got out on the street and started walking in the first direction that occurred to him. He just needed to move.

“Stan!”

Stan stopped, listening to the rushing footsteps behind him. He waited as long as possible to turn around, trying to push down any sign of anger. “What’s up?” he said with a smile.

Ford gaped like a fish. “‘What’s up?’ What is up with _you_ running out like that? You went past me like you didn’t see me.”

“Just needed some fresh air.” The lie slipped out without him thinking about it. Since when did he lie to his brother?

Ford didn’t look convinced. “Did Kyle say something to you?” What was ‘something’ supposed to mean? Something that wasn’t true, or something Ford didn’t mean for him to find out about? Before he could ask, Ford continued. “He can be a bit… coarse at times, but he doesn’t mean to be hurtful.”

“Sixer, it’s fine. Y’really think I care what some snooty nerd thinks about me?” Nice going, moron. Why didn’t he insult his brother’s new friend a little more while he was at it?

Ford laughed awkwardly. “It’s true he’s come from a… different kind of background from us. But he’s not so bad once you get to know him. Guess you and him have that in common.”

Stan didn’t want to have anything in common with Kyle. “I’ll bet that’s were the similarities stop though.” He looked at Ford, at the awkwardness in his smile. A niggling voice in his head wondered where the similarities between him and his brother stopped. “It’s good you finally got someone who’s on your level.” He didn’t mean for it to sound bitter, because he really was glad that Ford had found a place where he fit.

He could see the cogs turning behind Ford’s eyes as he was trying to decipher the implication behind the words – Stan hadn’t meant for there to be one. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Look, clearly I blew this whole ‘impression’ thing. Maybe…” He was afraid to finish, because he didn’t actually know what he wanted to do, and putting the idea out there would take away his ability to choose. It’d be up to Ford then.

“We can hang out, just the two of us,” Ford took a step towards him. “If you’d rather not be around Kyle.”

Stan felt so fucking pathetic, like he was some fragile dunce who couldn’t be around people who were smarter than him without his head exploding. Maybe Ford was just embarrassed for his shiny new friends to see what kind of people he’d come from.

“Eh, I can put up with him. Don’t worry about it.”

That said, they didn’t spend a lot of time around Kyle during Stan’s visit. He couldn’t help but feel condescended to, even though it’s what he’d’ve preferred. Ford showed him around the campus, where Stan stuck out like a sore thumb. Seemed like all smart people had a very similar total lack of style. Ford told him about the things he was studying and Stan nodded along like he always did, and made jokes about the words that sounded funny. They went to different spots around town Ford liked to study. They snuck into the theatre to see a terrible alien movie and got yelled at for laughing too loudly.

Stan was happy for all of it, but he realized that what he’d missed most was just sitting together in a diner or in their room or a swing set without feeling the need to fill every second with talking or doing things – just relaxing, or being bored, together. But that’d be a weird thing to do after you’ve travelled across a continent for just a few days.

And then it was over. He went to sleep two times in a sleeping bag on Ford’s floor – the best rest he’d had in who knew how long – and then it was time to go.

Ford trailed behind Stan out to the car. The mood between had been on a downward slope all morning, as the time for Stan leaving got closer. Ford took him by surprise by wrapping him in a quick hug. “Drive carefully, okay?”

Stan stuttered out a laugh and patted Ford’s back. “You know me. I’m the carefullest driver there is.”

Ford pulled back to look at him. Stan felt bad for being happy for the way Ford’s eyes turned misty. “Call me as soon as you get home.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mom. I promise. And you, get more sleep. When I came here you looked like a raccoon.”

Ford looked like a kid caught with a cigarette behind the gym. “I get enough sleep. It’s just that sometimes I get so caught up in what I’m reading that I forget the time.”

“You realize that those two things totally contradict each other, righ?”

Ford weaved his fingers together “Guess they do.”

So much for Kyle ‘understanding’ Ford. Stan had roomed with Ford his whole life and was pretty much an expert at bullying him into sleeping and eating when he needed to. Maybe Stan wasn’t completely obsolete yet.

The drive back was every bit as boring and tedious as he’d imagined the first one was going to be. Between gas and food and stays in cheap motels, it felt like he was bleeding money.

How many times would he be able to afford doing this? How many times could he ask for time off before Junior lost what little patience he had with him? Only being able to see his brother a couple of times a year almost felt worse than not seeing him at all.

Watching the sun set on some random town, he thought about the future. It was going to go on like this. Stan would be stuck in Glass Shard for the rest of his life, working boring jobs that paid peanuts. Ford wasn’t gonna come back – not properly. He’d finish his degree and then start another one, until he had all the fancy diplomas and titles he needed for being a super genius scientist. That on its own would take years, and then he’d go on to work at some big shot science institute or whatever, and be even busier than he’d been as a student.

It wasn’t that Stan had made a choice in life he now was stuck with. It was that he was starting to realize that the things he’d always believed were his other options had never been possible in the first place. Building a boat and sailing away from their stupid hometown had never been more than a childish fantasy.

Ford’s dream had always been to solve all the mysteries of the world and show everyone who thought of him as a six fingered freak just how amazing he was.

Stan had never had anything he could do, other than stand up for Ford when someone tried to mess with him. He’d never had any amazing ability or anything to prove to the world, and now the one thing he had ever been any good at wasn’t needed anymore. Ford had no more bullies for Stan to punch in the face, and he didn’t need Stan to sell anyone on how brilliant he was.

He got back to Glass Shard and returned to the same old rhythm of getting up in the morning, getting to work late more often than on time, spending his lunch staring blankly at the sea, moving through his daily tasks like a zombie, and then going home to stare at the TV until he was tired enough to fall asleep without laying awake and thinking about things.

He didn’t count the days. It could’ve been a week or a month after he came back when Junior stopped him leaving at the end of his shift to tell him not to bother coming back the next day. Stan stood there blinking like a moron for a couple of seconds. He sorta wanted to ask why, just to know which of the many obvious reasons Junior would give for firing him. But then again, he wasn’t really up for listening while Junior listed every little thing he’d done wrong since he started this lame ass job.

So he turned and headed towards the parking lot. “Gotcha. Nice knowing ya’,” he said with a wave.

He kept heading out every morning and returned at the right time in the evening, answered his parents questions the same way he always did. Ma would ask if he’d had a good day and Stan would say ‘yeah, sure’. His dad would demand to know if he’d messed up or gotten himself in trouble and Stan would say no, Sir, he hadn’t. He wasn’t technically lying, since neither of them asked him specifically _what_ he had been doing during the day.

He’d always head towards the sea, but end up at the beach rather than the docks. There he’d hammer away on the Stan O' War, only stopping for a moment to have lunch. He definitely worked harder than he ever had scraping barnacles, but he had no doubt that his dad was going to call him a lazy good-for-nothing when he found out the truth.

And Stan knew that his parents were going to find out that he’d been fired eventually. Glass Shard wasn’t a big town and somebody was bound to ask if Stan had managed to find a new job and then his dad was gonna lose his lid. But what was Stan supposed to do? Tell the truth, and intentionally bring down his dad’s anger and Ma’s disappointment on himself? Not gonna happen!

He told himself he was going to find a different job, eventually.

And days kept passing, with him waiting for the moment it all would come crashing down, while the Stan O' War started looking like something that might actually be ready to set sail. Maybe _that_ part of his childhood dream hadn’t be completely stupid.

Winter was unbearable, but at least he had a plausible excuse for why he wasn’t working. “They’re closing up shop for the season. Once the barnacles are back at it, so am I.” 

“And what’re you going to do in the meantime?” his dad said.

“The Italian place up on Bottles Avenue need a cleaner. I’ll see if I can get that,” he lied easily.

At first he tried spending the days down on the beach, and when it got too cold for that, he moved into town. One morning when snow was coming down in fist sized clumps and the wind blew right through you, he got so desperate that he left the bathroom window open before leaving home, moved his car a few streets away and then ran the whole way back to climb through the window before Ma noticed that the apartment had gotten colder.

By some miracle, this stupid plan worked and he was able to get back to his room without her spotting him and could stay there the whole day, warm and dry and bored out of his mind. That winter, he perfected the art of coming and going without anyone noticing.

It was a big relief when the days started to grow warmer again. Or it would’ve been, if the date for Ford’s return over the summer didn’t creep closer too. The lump in Stan’s gut grew larger with every passing day.

Him and Ford would talk over the phone when Ford had the time. Their dad wasn’t too happy about the cost of cross country calls, but Stan still had enough change left over to pay him back for the calls he made on his own. Even if he got a new job tomorrow, it would be a long while before he could afford to go across the country again.

“How’s the job?” There was a hint of sympathy in the question, because Ford knew how boring it was down at the docks.

Nobody was in the house, for once. Pa was down in the shop and Ma had left her line closed for once to go get her hair done. Now was the time to complain about what a dick Jammerson Junior was and how Stan had never wanted that stupid job anyway.

But he couldn’t get the words out. It was like trying to leap off a high cliff, but finding that your instincts held you back with a strength that felt physical. Ford was gonna see what everyone else had figured out ages ago. That Stan was nothing but a freeloading moron who couldn’t even hold down the easiest job on the planet.

“It’s so boring! All the other guys are older than dad and all they ever wanna talk about is taxes and the news and their wives. But at least the boardwalk’s got some smokin’ babes.”

Ford laughed.

“So, how’s the collage?” Stan asked, mimicking Ford’s tone.

“Oh, it’s…You know, very busy, as always. Some of the professors are really strict.” Stan had expected Ford to launch into one of his long winded lectures about whatever new exciting thing he was obsessing over at the moment. “Let’s talk more when I get back, okay?”

Guess there wasn’t much of a point talking to Stan about his nerd stuff now, when he had people who actually understood what he was going on about to talk to.

“You know it, Sixer!”

—

One day out of the blue, his dad was waiting for him in the living room when he came back to the house, sitting in his armchair reading the news paper. He didn’t acknowledge Stan when he entered, but Stan could tell that he was waiting for him to make a move for the bedroom, so Filbrick could ask him where he thought he was going.

So he stood still in the entrance, waiting for his dad to start talking.

If Filbrick was thrown off by Stan’s tiny show of defiance, he didn’t let on. After turning the page three times in complete silence, he finally said, “When were you planning on telling us that you got fired?”

Never, obviously. “I wanted to find something else first. I didn’t want to make Ma worry.”

“Slithering out of responsibility, more like.” His dad put the paper down and got out of his chair. “A real man faces up to his failures. He doesn’t try and hide them away until they come back to bite him.”

Stan kept his mouth shut and his eyes glued to his feet. His dad didn’t wait for an answer. He walked slowly across the room towards his and Ma’s bedroom. Just before the left the room, Stan blurted, “Are you gonna tell Ford?”

Pa made him wait for a couple of painful seconds before shaking his head. “He’s busy. You can tell him when he gets back.” By which he meant that Stan was going to explain himself to Ford in excruciating detail, while their dad watched to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything out.

With that, Filbrick left Stan alone in the living room.

From then on, Stan left at the crack of dawn and got back as late as possible. His dad didn’t say more than a couple of words to him a week, leaving it to his wife to ask Stan how the ‘job hunting’ had gone.

Stan lied and lied and spent his days doing anything he could to get the hours to pass. He went on drives even though he was almost out of both money. He walked the boardwalk up and down, not caring if Junior saw him pass several times an hour. The days went by in a blur. Before Stan knew it, the date Ford was set to return had come.

That morning, he woke suddenly, even though there was no alarm. For a while, he tried laying very still, hoping that he’d be able to fall back asleep. Ford was coming back today. The thought filled him with a painful energy. It felt like he was going to barf his lungs up if he didn’t start moving.

He flew out of bed, got dressed in the first pieces of clothing he got his hands on and before he knew it he was walking quickly down the street. He should’ve put on a jacket, but it was still early morning. It would get warmer before too long.

He made it to the beach, where the Stan O' War bobbed on soft waves. Some of the panicky energy had drained out of him and he could sit down without feeling like he was going to explode.

The early sun glittered in the water, and seagulls laughed above his head. He took a deep breath, filling his nose with salty air, and exhaled slowly. Maybe he could stay here until Ford arrived. Let him come find him so they could talk like normal, without anybody listening and judging.

But that would mean Ford would see the Stan O' War and how much it had changed since the last time he saw it. He’d know what Stan had wasted his time on instead of having a job or making anything of himself. Maybe he’d feel sorry for him, for still clinging to some stupid kiddy fantasy when Ford had been able to move on and grow up without a problem.

He looked up at the Stan O' War, following the mast with his eyes and up to the blue sky it seemed to point towards. That was the only future he had ever been able to imagine. Even now, it seemed clearer than the one laid out for him in Glass Shard.

It was like the light came on inside his head for the first time in over a year. After so long stumbling about in darkness, afraid that if he stopped for a second he might not be able to get going again, it was weird to think clearly.

Why was he doing this? He’d always hated this stupid town, and he’d hated every second of working down at the docks. The only person who cared if Stan was doing what he was supposed to was dad and still, it wasn’t like he’d been any happier when Stan had a job. Because all he ever did was check to make sure Stan hadn’t messed up yet.

Ma had always called Stan a ‘free spirit’, which Stan had always thought of as a nicer way of saying what everyone else called ‘stupid’ and ‘lazy’. Whatever Stan did, she couldn’t stop going on about how she was ‘so proud of him’, because like dad, she was expecting him to screw up, and she thought every day that passed without it was worth praising.

And Ford… He didn’t know what Ford expected of him. Maybe he’d be surprised to find out Stan had gotten himself fired. Maybe he’d know, deep down, that Stan was never gonna be able to do it. He knew Stan better than anyone, after all.

Well, at least now Ford would be saved from having to listen to Stan going on about his boring life like it was something worth talking about.

The thing was, his dad and mom and every annoying moron in this town, they were right about him. Stan _was_ a screw up. The idea that he’d be able to get a new job wasn’t that out there, but the idea that he’d be able to stick with it for like 50 years was laughable.

Literally. Stan leaned his head back and laughed, because this was all so stupid. He’d spent a whole year thinking about how stupid and unrealistic a dream it’d had been to sail the world, when the thing that was _actually_ impossible was _this_.

He felt light all of a sudden, like he might float off into the sky. The sound of the waves seemed louder than before. It lifted him to his feet. He looked up at the Stan O’ War again. If he turned around, he could see the swingset overlooking the sea, where nobody had sat for a long time, and likely never would again. Not the same way they used to, at least.

He _did_ have a choice. That was one thing they were all wrong about when it came to him. His choice was to keep pretending or just embrace reality, and while he’d always been great at lying and often enjoyed doing, it felt like a good time to give the jig up.

—

“Where could he’ve gone off to?” Caryn peered out the window. “It’s getting dark.”

Ford sat on the sofa feeling awkward in that way you get when you’d spent weeks imagining something happening a certain way only to have it turn out in a way you hadn’t even considered.

“Car’s still here, isn’t it?” Filbrick said from behind his newspaper. “He’s not gone far.”

“He wouldn’t miss Stanford coming home,” Caryn insisted, turning back towards the living room. “Where could he have gone?”

Feeling too restless to sit still and listen to his parents’ circular conversation, Ford went into Stanley and his bedroom.

He’d brought pretty much everything he could fit in his bags with him to collage and shoved old toys and clothes into the closet. With one look around the room it was clear that it was a whole lot emptier than it ought to be. Some of Ford’s pens and old books still sat on top of the desk, but everything belonging to Stan had been cleared away. The bed had been sptripped and the movie posters had been taken down. On the bare mattress sat a plain envelope.

Something clicked in Ford’s head and his chest seized. He turned and ran out of the house without responding to their parents’ calls. His feet beat hard against the pavement, sending shockwaves up his body, and he still felt like he wasn’t going fast enough. He was being ridiculous. He’d be so embarrassed when Stan found out and laughed at him for even considering something so preposterous.

Running had never been something he was particularly good at or liked to do. Everything hurt but he forced himself to keep going. There was the top of the swingset and next was the mast of the Stan O’ War.

But the mast didn’t come into view when it should. Stan had moved it. Ford was remembering the geography of the beach wrong.

He leapt off the road into rough sand. There was no boat anchored to the rickety jetty.

Ford’s breathing was so hard it felt like he was going to be sick. He looked up, eyes scanning the horizon. There were a couple of ships bobbing across the water, most of them staying close to the shore. Further out he saw a tiny speck in the reflection from the sun – a sailboat.

“Stanley,” he breathed. He ran again, out onto the jetty they had considered theirs, since it was too small and out of the way for anybody else to have any use for. He stopped at the end, eyes fixed on the shadow. He couldn’t tell which way it was going – if it was getting closer or going away.

“Stanley!” he screamed, so loud that he thought his vocal chords might snap, even though he knew that if that even was the Stan O’ War it was too far out for Stanley to hear him. He inhaled violently and screamed again, cupping his hands around his mouth and curling his body in on itself to press as much air out of his body in one go as he possibly could. “Stan-ley!”

This couldn’t be happening. This was a nightmare or a misunderstanding or some horrible, stupid prank. It just was unthinkable that this was actually real.

“Why?” But his voice was breaking. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There was no possible way the words carried across the waves.

The small shadow vanished into the horizon.


End file.
